


been dancing my whole life, but you just beg to see me dance just one more time

by phoenyxies (berriesbloom)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Cults, Depersonalization, Disassociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Gen, Haircuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25556485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berriesbloom/pseuds/phoenyxies
Summary: There's just something cathartic about cutting your hair.(Or, Calianna decides to take back what the Cult of the Caustic Heart took from her.)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	been dancing my whole life, but you just beg to see me dance just one more time

Calianna stands there, uncertain.

She’s been here before. It’s a little funny, honestly, how many times she’d backed out of doing this.

The sunlight of the blooming day filters in through the window to her right. It spills over the sink’s basin, sinking into its cracks and dents. She holds a pair of silver shears tight in her hands, knuckles white, and a towel lays folded on the sink’s counter.

_”Little Calianna,” Cirisa sighed, with a lovely porcelain comb in her hands. “Has anyone ever told you how lovely your hair is?”_

_She had been preoccupied with how her feet didn’t touch the ground from where she sat. Calianna was not very old, only twelve years of age. Her eyes shone, and her claws were sharper than she kept them now. “You tell me all the time, Cissie!” She giggled, leaning back dangerously far on the stool. Cirisa just clicked her tongue behind her teeth._

_“I tell you, but you do not understand. Your hair is silky, and coarse. It is unlike anything I have seen before. You are our little wonder, Calianna, and you must remember that.” She tapped her nails against the sides of Calianna’s neck, and Cali knew better than to keep messing around. She straightened herself back up. Cirisa began to run her fingers through Calianna’s long hair, watching her in the mirror. “You are our miracle.”_

Calianna was dressed down to her tunic. Her long sleeves were pushed up past her elbow, her cloak abandoned somewhere in the inn room behind her. She’d already unclasped her necklaces and bracelets, but she hadn’t removed her hair ribbons yet. 

Maybe she was making this molehill a mountain. Right? She reaches up to tug at a strand of her hair. Curling it around her finger, Calianna shifts her hand into her hair, eyes shifting to the mirror in front of her. The long, black strands are pillowed on her shoulders, and run down to a few inches below her shoulders. She can see the wrinkles on her temple, the small frown on her face as she tugs halfheartedly at the hair on her head. 

_”Sessie!” Calianna struggled under her hands, the older woman yanking harshly on her hair. Cirisa paid no mind, even when her eyes began to tear up from the tugging. She continued to work the comb through the smallest tangles, curling the hair around the prongs before tugging at it again._

_“You know what is expected of you, Calianna. Why is your hair so messy? Why are you letting the gifts the dragon gave you to waste?” She shoves Calianna’s head away from her, and she lets Calianna whimper and shift around in her seat. She can feel her eyes boring into the back of her panging skull, and Calianna tries her best to not look up to the mirror. This is about more than just her hair. “You are destined for great things, little one. You know this. I have told you since we took you in. You are the reckoning that this pitiful world needs, and you-” Cirisa reaches forward, and Calianna flinches, expecting something harsh. But her hand just strokes her hair, and Calianna finally looks up to meet her gaze. “You need to be better.”_

Calianna looks down at her hair ribbons, now pooling in her cupped hands. Jade green, gold, and lavender blue tumble onto the basin when she sets them down. When she gathers the courage to look at her reflection, she just watches herself.

Her shoulders are slumped. Cirisa would’ve pressed a nail into the small of her back if she saw her slouching like this. Fingerprints of grey marks are dug into the bags underneath her eyes. She would have pinched her cheek, and told her to sleep in later that day. Growing dragons need their sleep. Her top is bunched unevenly from where it hangs on her shoulders. Calianna adjusts it, and it’s almost like Cirisa is there behind her, murmuring praise into her scaled ear and spilling poison into her pointed one. Suddenly, her reflection weights down on her shoulders, and she has to look back to the basin.

The daylight has moved to glint across the shears, still glistening with water from being cleaned. She reaches to unwrap the towel from around them, the shears clammy in her warm hands. Her throat feels dry. It clicks when she swallows. The blade cuts uncomfortably into her palms when she tightens her grip.

_”You’ve done well.”_

_All Calianna can see is the blood congealing her hands. It’s deep in her claws, dug into her fingernails, and it’s everywhere. She can feel it on both her hands. The dark maroon blends too well with her inky green scales, and it’s a stark splash against the pale white of her trembling hand. She won’t be able to get rid of the feeling for weeks._

_The only other sounds in the room are the thunks and grunts of the people tugging the body out of the room. The cobblestone beneath her bare feet is cold, and it’s the only thing she can process besides the bubbling draconic rage in her veins. She’s angry, and she’s scared, and she’s terrified of what she’s done._

_Cirisa’s thumb presses against her cheek, and she has to blink to focus on the older woman in front of her. Her hand is cradling her chin, and the corners of her eyes are wrinkled in the warmest smile she’s seen on her face since the day she brought Calianna home._

_“This is the first of many sinners you will cleanse, Calianna. The work is messy, but it has to be done. You understand that, right?”_

_When Calianna doesn’t answer right away, eyes still glazed over, Cirisa’s nails dig into the soft flesh of her skin. “Right?”_

_Calianna doesn’t need to say anything for Cirisa to get her answer._

She’s never cut hair before, let alone her own. It takes more than a few minutes for her to settle on an angle to start on. The sun has gone down just a bit since she’s started, and the sunlight now rests like a sleepy housecat across her feet. She didn’t want to sit down for this, but the heels of her feet were starting to ache just a little bit.

She shuffles around. Calianna has to take a breath, and another, before she can close the shears. With a satisfying snip to the first strand of hair, she takes it and looks at it, turning it over in her fingers. Sighing, Calianna lets it fall into the basin, and she turns her attention back to her hair. She curls a strand around the blade and closes them again. She can already tell it’s going to take her a while to do this.

_Calianna’s never felt so exposed before._

_The halls of the keep are golden and shimmering, the lanterns lit low. Shadows of scales and cut out dragons and circles and harmonic shapes dance across the walls. The tile is freezing under her bare feet, her flesh sticking to it just a bit and her scales clicking almost inaudibly against its surface. Her fingers are curled into shaking fists at her sides, and everyone’s eyes are on her._

_Cirisa had pulled her hair into a tight braid, draped over her left shoulder. Her scales are glinting in the light, and she is painfully aware of the fact that that is what everyone’s eyes are on. Even her clothes are arranged to expose as many scales as possible, pure white fabric swirling around her legs with her tail trailing behind her._

_But it isn’t the eyes, and it isn’t the clothes. It’s everyone’s hands on her, foreign fingers grasping her arm like it’s a jewel to be gawked over and tracing every single imperfection in her skin. Hands card through her hair to feel the grooves of her horns, and a man steps up to take her face in his hands to tug her lips up. He mumbles some kind of awed praise to Tiamat at the sight of her draconic fangs, but Calianna isn’t there anymore. Her soul is floating up and out of her body, watching Cirisa glowing with reverence at her side as people in fanciful robes regard her as a symbol of holy retribution._

_At some point, the dim lights darken even more, and Calianna is finally permitted to retreat from the crowd. Cirisa is drawn somewhere else, probably to talk more with other leaders, and she is left alone. She feels too numb and alert, if that makes sense, to sleep or cry or anything. Today is an important day. It is a holy day, and Calianna has a job to do. Cirisa said it was important. She was old enough to ‘cleanse the sins of the turned’, as she put it, and if it was anything like her previous trials, she knew she’d have to be mentally present for it._

_Time passes quickly when she’s left to her own devices. Before she knows it, Cirisa is knelt by her side, and she leans to hear what she whispers to her._

_“Are you ready? It is time.” Cirisa rasps, her hand moving to grasp Calianna’s wrist. She knows that the question is just a formality. This is what she’s here for. She nods._

_Calianna is led to the center of the room. There is no stage, there’s no announcement. Everyone else knows what is about to happen._

_A man with honey-colored hair steps forward. His robes are crisper, more new, and his eyes are full of a clarity that she desperately wishes she had had too. He kneels in front of her, head bowed. The back of his neck is exposed to her. There’s a smudge of bright red paint across his nape, and Cirisa’s hand grasps her shoulder._

_Calianna raises her own hand, and it doesn’t take any concentration for acid to secrete from her palm. The room is quiet, except for the roaring in her ears, and the bated breath of the onlookers. The acid runs down her fingers, and she shivers when a drop splashes against the ground. The scent of scorched stone rises to meet her nose, and it’s suddenly all she can smell. In a moment, it turns from scorched stone to burnt skin, and to guttural screaming. Her claws leave grooves in his flesh as she grips, as Cirisa grips her shoulder tighter. The man is screaming, his throat is hoarse, and then he’s quiet. No one steps forward to help him up until Calianna pulls away. She watches him go._

Calianna gives up on cutting it methodically. She grabs a fistful of her hair, and she just rips the blade of the shears across it. It comes away in her hand and she lets it go into the basin. It has to come off, it doesn’t matter how. She hacks and cuts and snips until it all falls away.

She rinses her hands off quickly. The shears clatter to the countertop as she rushes to get the itchy bits of hair off of her fingers. Her vision is blurry with silent tears. God, her fucking head hurts. Her muscles are drawn tight in tension, and no matter what she can’t relax them. It hurts.

Her breath comes in little gasps, and she scrubs away her tears with her sleeves.

Calianna’s hair is shaggy now, very obviously cut frantically. It’s slanted almost, to one side, and it barely reaches an inch past her chin. She shakes her head just to see how it feels. It’s so much lighter, and she takes a deep breath. 

One in, one out. She looks like such a total mess. It’d be funny, if she wasn’t so tired. Exhaustion has sunk into her limbs, and Calianna wraps her arms around herself as she stares into the mirror. The person staring back feels a little more like her. A little more free. She shakes her head again. She isn’t used to this at all.

The sunlight has really waned now, and she can see the very bare beginnings of dusk begin to make its way through the window. It must’ve been hours, and she hadn’t realized. How much time had she lost to her memories?

Calianna pulls on a smile, and feels even more at home. It’s a start. It’s something. 

Hopefully, her body will begin to feel a little more like her own again.

**Author's Note:**

> i noticed that the calianna tag hasn't had a cali-centric fic in it in ages, so obviously i had to fix that! this is something i've been wanting to write for a while too so, two birds with one stone. 
> 
> it's honestly a shame we haven't seen anything for calianna in a while, and if cr wont bend reality to get mark hulmes back on so i can obsess over this dragon girl more then ill make content myself!!!!
> 
> title is from dance monkey by tones and i. it's kind of my go-to song for manipulation and figures of authority taking what they want from you with nothing given in return. plus it fucks!
> 
> *edited (8/15/2020): according to chronicles of exandria vol 2, serissa is spelled cirisa! so i edited accordingly.


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